


True Romance, or: Our Inevitable Demise

by dianajuno (dayanah)



Series: Andromeda Summers [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:02:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23093767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dayanah/pseuds/dianajuno
Summary: “I’ll make you better,” he coos gently, lips turning up in an affectionate smile. His breath feels hot on her lips as she breathes through constricted throat. His tender caresses unravels her — plucks her apart brick by brick. Like Eve, she is made in his image.
Series: Andromeda Summers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1659763
Kudos: 2





	True Romance, or: Our Inevitable Demise

**Author's Note:**

> This work contains non-graphic depiction of domestic violence. Please proceed with caution.

_I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed  
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.  
(I think I made you up inside my head.)_  
[…]  
 _I fancied you’d return the way you said,  
But I grow old and I forget your name.  
(I think I made you up inside my head.)_

**Mad Girl’s Love Song — Sylvia Plath (1951)**

* * *

_“I_ _’ll make you better,” he coos gently, lips turning up in an affectionate smile. His breath feels hot on her lips as she breathes through constricted throat. His tender caresses unravels her — plucks her apart brick by brick. Like Eve, she is made in his image._

* * *

**Old Town, Summer of 2100**

The Border Station, situated by the edge of Old Town just south of The hubbub of The Capitol, is deserted save for one person. For one microsecond an overwhelming sea of fear drowns her before flushing out as quickly as it entered. She assesses the person standing in front of her. Male. Late teen. Probably going through a growth spurt if the awkward length of his pants is anything to go by. Black hair. Narrow black eyes. Slender nose. Full lips. Gawky thin. 5'11, probably. So, 2 inches taller than her.

She exhales through her nose. Her left hand slips to her pants pocket, gripping at the razor she keeps hidden there. If need be, she can overpower him. She eyes his exposed throat. It would take five minutes, give or take.

In her right arm, a baby yawns sleepily, uncaring of her turbulent thoughts.

_Breathe, Kristina_.

* * *

_  
“Breathe, Christy,” he whispers._

_“I can’t,” she chokes out, “please. I can’t breathe.”_

_He ignores her plea and gently rocks her, humming a mangled rendition of their song. In the bathtub that could barely contain the two of them, water sloshes gently, threatening to drown her._

_She wishes it would._

* * *

With trembling legs, she walks toward the station. The man — boy, she amends in her head — stands before her separated by a plexiglass. He quirks an eyebrow at her, straightens his back and presses a button. Static screech fills the room.

“Good evening, my name is Ezra Hark, Border Station guard on duty. Very sorry, ma’am, but you’ve missed curfew by roughly thirty minutes and we are not currently accepting visitors. Please return in the morning and the guard on duty will issue you visitor — ”

“I’d like to request asylum,” she interrupts.

Silence greets her.

“Please,” she continues, shakily, “please, my daughter and I have nowhere to go.”

Ezra stares at her for a beat before tapping his desk twice. She hears the click clack of keyboard as he types and forces herself to breathe. The baby in her arm shuffles in discontent. Gently, she whispers, “It’s okay, Bella. It’s okay.”

The typing paused.

“Name?”

* * *

_  
“Christy, get me my water.”_

_She sighs unhappily, “I told you that’s not my name.”_

_“Ah, but that’s a very pretty name, isn’t it, for a very pretty girl?”_

_She ignores his teasing and pads to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water._

* * *

  
“Kristina. Kristina Sairas.”

He nods and inputs her name.

“Place of origin?”

“Capitol.”

He perks up at that, “ah! Do you have ID that I can flash through the system? It’ll take a lot faster — ”

“No!” She nearly shouts, “no, I don’t have an ID.”

He freezes. “Ma’am, we cannot — ”

“Please,” she chokes back a sob, “I know I am asking for so much but please, please.”

From behind the plexiglass, he looks at her. Properly, for the first time since they first saw each other. She knows what he’ll find. She didn’t have the time to truly wash her hair and she can only hope against hope that her black hair can disguise the splash of red she knows he’ll find otherwise. She tilts her head down, trying to disguise the mottle of purple decorating her neck. Her attempts seem to be futile as she can see his face morphing from bland professionalism to sympathy.

He blows out a tired breath.

“For your daughter’s sake,” he starts, then stops. “Look —

“Are you safe?” He asks seriously.

She considers the question for all of five seconds. Turns over the word ‘safe’ in her head until it loses all possible meaning. The bruises that paints her entire body is nothing but a painful reminder of how _unsafe_ she was. But bruises will, in time, heal. The ruination that inhabits her head, rattling around begging to be let out?

She will be its prisoner for as long as she lives.

“Ma’am?” He prods.

She pastes an uneasy smile, “I will be. We will be when we have a home.”

He nods, “if there’s anything you can tell me that I can work with, please. I’m all ears.” He sees the hesitation in her eyes and amends his statement. “I need preliminary data to be submitted and everything will be confidential. I will not ask you anything you won’t answer.”

She lets out a shaky breath, “my name is Kristina Sairas. I’m 20 years old.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

He hums, “and your daughter?”

“Bella. Arabella Jay M — ” she cuts herself short. “Just. Just Arabella Jay.”

“Like the letter?”

“Like the bird.”

“Ah.”

“Very well.” He types into his computer. “Kristina and Arabella Jay Sairas, formerly of Capitol Region requesting asylum in the Old Town Region. Under Protection Against Domestic Violence Act, you are hereby granted temporary haven in Old Town. I will personally assist the creation of your new identities and your relocation.”

Her breath catches in her throat.

“Unless,” he says slowly, “I’m reading this wrong.”

“No,” she says, feeling the burn of shame as tears slide down her cheeks. “No, you’re not.”

* * *

_  
All you want to do is to talk about him._

_He, whom you had never truly understood. He, whose entire being spooked you and warmed you. He, whose image is carefully curated in your mind for the sake of your sanity. His wrath scratched out. His violence carefully smudged, until all that’s left is a picture not even you can recognise in your wildest dreams._

_It was merely hours ago, and yet it tormented you every second since you fell to the cracks of the bathroom floor. A part of you, the foolish (foolish, foolish,_ **_foolish_ ** _) romantic part of you, wanted nothing more than to throw caution to the wind. You would’ve done anything to make him return to your loving embrace. You would’ve bridged the distance between the two of you with The Undying Love. You would’ve said anything to make him hold you and never let go. Until that thin line that separates sanity and insanity dissolves; all in the name of love. He would’ve taken you to your sanctuary, where you know nothing in this entire universe can harm you; his arms. And you’d stay there for all eternity._

_Another part of you, the sensible part, wanted him to hate you with all his wrath. You wished that you had laughed when he choked you instead of crying helpless tears for the merciless monster. You’d laugh and you’d remind him that you were not the only one affected by love and that he had been crazy (insane, even) over you. You’d remind him until he tightens the grip on your neck out of sheer hatred. Hatred for himself, because he had been so stupid to indulge in this madness. Hatred for you, because he loved you to the point of rage. You’d tease him even in the brink of your death of how he had begged for you to return his love._

_Once upon a time there was a love that met its end. Gracelessly, it slipped away in between the cracks of a bloodied bathroom floor._

* * *

  
“Have you ever been in love, Mr. Hark?”

He looks up from the computer. The glow of the display illuminates his furrowed brows. He chuckles. “Ma’am, between finishing school, working this shitty job and taking care of Ana, I really don’t have the time to write love letters to poor unsuspecting sod.”

“Ana?”

He smiles warmly, “my little sister. Just about your daughter’s age, I think.”

She returns his smile weakly, “and who takes care of her while you work?”

“Mr. Kite! A most gracious man, really, he babysits Ana when I’m at work and in school. Lives just right by the Market District. Which is where we’re going right after I wrap up this report. There! Done. C’mon now.”

Her grip on the hidden razor, which had loosened, tightens again. “Why?”

“Mr. Kite runs Abednego Kite’s Teas and Herbs Emporium. Really, he sells all sorts of medicinal tinctures. I don’t mean to pry — ”

“Oh, you don’t?” she asks wryly.

“But you need medical care,” he continues undeterred. “And you don’t want to go to a hospital, trust me.”

“I don’t,” she agrees. “But I don’t have money with me — ”

“I can tell,” he interrupts gently, “what with you not bringing anything but a baby.”

The baby in question ignores his remark and sleeps still.

“It’s alright,” Ezra says, “Mr. Kite would never turn away anyone in need.”

With trembling lips, she speaks, “If you lie to me, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

“I know,” he remarks pleasantly, as if they’re talking about the weather and not his potential demise. He moves away from his platform and unlatches the lock to the door then calmly walks to her.

The grip she has on Bella is bruising.

“Not two years ago, when Ana was just four months old, my parents passed away. Drunk driver. Malfunctioning traffic light. Blah, blah, blah. Tale as old as time,” he says, letting out a bitter laugh. “I was sixteen at the time. We lived in the Upper West District — I was a Capitolite, too, just like you. We lived about two hundred meters away from the Serakh Park. You know that place?”

She nods.

“You know the law. If I had reported to the authorities that my parents had passed away, they would have taken my sister and I to the Center. Most likely we would’ve been separated. I was a minor, after all. So as soon as I got the call from the hospital, I grabbed Ana and an overnight bag. In the middle of the night, just like you.” He huffs. “I didn’t even get to bury my parents. I just ran like hell.”

He steps closer to her. This time, she lets the distance close between them.

“Mr. Kite wasn’t the guard on duty, but he was delivering tea boxes to the guard. Took one look at us and started sobbing loudly about how dreadful his nephew and niece must have missed him to sneak away at such improper hour.

Just like that, Ana and I managed to sneak into Old Town undetected. By the morning, we were moved into a tiny house on the Great Plains right by the border of Waste Land.”

“I don’t — ”

“All I’m saying is that I understand desperation. You’re not alone, ma’am. I promise.”

* * *

_  
And nobody will love you the way I do. All consuming, with the sacred pain of all that I have sacrificed in your name._

_This I promise you, Christy.  
  
_

* * *

“And what fucking good is your promise, Mr. Hark?”

“Nothing. It’s not really worth much, not to you. I’m just asking you to do one brave thing. Just the one.

Trust me. Just — for the next two hours, give or take.”

* * *

_  
“And I will love you forever and ever and ever until words cease to exist.”_

_“I’m so tired.”_

_“How ungrateful of you.”_

* * *

  
“I’m so tired”.

Her knees buckle under the weight of such immeasurable pain. Before she can fall, he catches her easily. One arm supporting her back and the other clasped over the arm that’s holding Bella.

“Breathe.”

“I can’t,” she chokes out, “I can’t breathe. Please, I can’t breathe.”

In the commotion that surrounds her, Bella wakes. She blinks her eyes open before yawning sleepily. In the shoddy lighting of the station, her pale grey eyes seem to glow contrasting her brown skin. She gurgles a quiet “muh-muh-muh” like a solemn litany that accompanies her mother’s nearly hysteric sobs.

Ezra kneels down gently, taking both Kristina and Bella. He presses his palm to the side of Kristina’s head and moves it so that it lays on his chest. “You don’t have to breathe. Just…focus on my heart beat. Can you do that?”

His words are met with loud sobs.

“Okay,” he breathes out. “There’s this radio program I particularly like. It’s called _Good Evening, Old Town!_ Why we still have radio, I don’t quite know. The romanticism of time gone by, I s’pose.”

She sniffles in response.

“On Saturdays, they always open the program with weather report. Yes, in the evening and only on Saturdays. The weather report never makes sense, too. One time the host just said — ”

He clears his throat and affects a jovial tone.

“Good evening, Old Town! I’m your host Ricky Fernandez and today’s weather is annoying. You know that weather where you’re not sure if it’s gonna rain or if the sun’s just hiding and if you bring an umbrella you’re gonna look stupid for the entire day? Yeah, that’s the weather today. Now, onto traffic report!”

She lets out a wet chuckle.

“Yeah, it’s stupid. I think they cobbled that shit together with records of old radio programs and decided, ‘hey, why not do a nonsensical weather report? It adds atmosphere!’ Stupid, really. But it’s the one thing that puts Ana to sleep. She’s a terribly fussy girl. I swear she must’ve cried for six straight months when we first moved here.”

“Are you okay?”

By now, her sobs have died down. She takes a lungful of breath before shaking her head.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be like that for awhile. I’m so sorry.”

“I was so stupid,” she says, apropos of nothing.

He chuckles mirthlessly, “we are all stupid at some point in our lives, ma’am. I won’t hold you to it. Now, can you get up?”

She nods. He hooks his right arm around her and heaves them both upward. After a few unsteady seconds, she stands tall. As if noticing that her mother is now taken care of, Bella falls back into slumber, smacking her lips before letting out a tiny snuffle.

“Now, let’s see the man with the finest cup of tea you’ll ever have in your life, shall we?”

* * *

_  
Once upon a time there was a love that met its end. Gracelessly, it slipped away in between the cracks of a bloodied bathroom floor._

_(I think I made you up inside my head)_


End file.
